"There is no need to pardon nor pity," said the man with the blue riband. "It would be no harm to hang Alexis, nor to question this gentleman. Why does he visit us? If he does not acknowledge you as Czar he has no justice to get at your hands; if he acknowledge you, why did he stay at Orenbourg with your enemies? Will you not order him to prison, and have a fire lighted there?"
The old rascal's logic seemed plausible even to myself. I shuddered when I remembered into whose hands I had fallen. Pougatcheff saw my trouble.
"Eh! eh! your lordship," said he, winking, "it seems my field-marshal is right. What do you think?"
The jesting tone of the chief restored my courage. I replied calmly that I was in his power.
"Well," said Pougatcheff, "tell me now the condition of your city?"
"It is, thank God, in a good state."
"A good condition," repeated the brigand, "when the people are dying of hunger."
The usurper was right, but according to the duty imposed by my oath, I affirmed that it was a false report, and that the fort was sufficiently provisioned.
"You see he deceives you," interrupted the man with the riband. "All the deserters are unanimous in saying that famine and pestilence are at Orenbourg; that thistles are eaten as dainties there. If you wish to hang Alexis, hang on the same gibbet this young fellow, that they may be equal."
These words seemed to shake the chief. Happily the other wretch opposed this view.
"Silence," said this powerful fellow. "You think of nothing but hanging and strangling. It becomes you to play the hero. To look at you, no one knows where your soul is."
"And which of the saints are you?" replied the old man.
"Generals," said Pougatcheff, with dignity, "an end to your quarrels. It would be no great loss if all the mangy dogs from Orenbourg were dangling their legs under the same cross-beam; but it would be a misfortune if our own good dogs should bite each other."
Feeling the necessity of changing the conversation, I turned to Pougatcheff with a smile, and said: "Ah! I forgot to thank you for the horse and touloup. Without your aid I should not have reached the city. I would have died from cold on the journey." My trick succeeded. Pougatcheff regained his good humor.
"The beauty of debt is the payment thereof," said he, winking. "Tell me your story. What have you to do with the young girl that Alexis persecutes? Has she caught your heart, too?"
"She is my promised bride" said I, seeing no risk in speaking the truth.